


Prelude to the Apocalypse

by mercibun



Series: Galaxy Divided [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Conflict of Interests, Espionage, Gen, Lies and Deceit, Slow Burn, chapters are of a weird length don't mind me, might get nsfw later?? i'll edit ratings and stuff if it does, set like 30 years before the events of swtor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-01-10 14:51:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12301449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercibun/pseuds/mercibun
Summary: Agent Viktor Lysander of Imperial Intelligence is sent to Nar Shaddaa on his latest assignment, to track down and eventually kill The Collector- the leader of a ruthless gang of criminals that operate galaxy-wide.Naturally, things get complicated.





	1. Chapter 1

“Keeper out.” The holocommunicator powered down with that gruff farewell, and the bearded face of the Keeper of Imperial Intelligence vanished from sight.

Agent Viktor Lysander ran a hand over his long, dark hair, and pulled it pack into a low ponytail wearily. He sighed, thinking over the assignment he had just been given. For it, he had been flown out to Nar Shaddaa - disgusting planet that it was - to manipulate and later assassinate The Collector, head of a ruthless pirate gang who had made a name for themselves by ruining their enemies in … rather creative ways and then leaving them in plain sight. Such creative ways always entailed their victims being found without their eyes, which had been regarded as being symbolic.

Not much was known about this new target, not much at all- Viktor hadn’t even been told if The Collector was a he or a she during his briefing just now. The Empire had no eyes (which was the irony of the situation) or ears on this criminal. This was why Viktor had arrived on Nar Shaddaa to do his job and kill a criminal. He was going in blind, not for the first time in his career, which was fine in of itself. But something about this mission bothered him, and Viktor couldn’t place it.

The latest enemy to fall at the hands of The Collector had been an Imperial dignitary, one that the Republic had made moves to have silence in the past. This particular activity had apparently led Keeper to think that The Collector was collaborating with the Republic. And who ever said that Imperials overreacted? Definitely not him.

The young man was still pondering this lack of knowledge as he left the spaceport’s relative shelter and shouldered his rifle, looking around for any sign of his next move. Maker, this place stunk. As a field agent, Viktor had been to some pretty unpleasant places. Taris, to put it bluntly, sucked, and Quesh was worse. But hopefully he would be able to get used to the stench soon. 

His first objective was to go to the Promenade, if he recalled correctly, to meet with a couple of representatives of The Collector who would determine if he was safe to meet with their boss. 

So, formal and quiet as ever, he made his way over to the taxi service and queued to be flown over to the Promenade. Taxis, it seemed, were overpriced in every part of the galaxy. It didn’t help that, to help him ‘fit in’ with a cover of being a wealthy offworld mercenary, he was dressed well and expected to tip in his fares.

Two hundred credits later, Viktor had boarded a speeder to the Promenade, and subsequently landed at his destination. He glanced at the map as he began to walk, all the while silently plotting his route between the speeder port and the rendezvous point.

He pocketed his map shouldered his way through the crowds gathered at seemingly seemingly random points along the path he planned to take, avoiding glances from curious and/or drunk patrons as he weaved around corners and descended a stairwell.

Three and a half minutes passed. Viktor found himself standing outside a heavy door. He checked the coordinates- yes, this was indeed the place. An access pad caught his attention, asking for a code in blinking green lights. That must have been what the code sent to his datapad had been intended to do. Carefully, and with hesitation, the agent typed the code in on the keys provided, and then stepped back quickly in case the door exploded. Thankfully, the door unlocked and opened with a faint hiss of air.

Viktor let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and stepped inside.


	2. Chapter 2

Viktor, upon passing the door, immediately came face to face with two soldiers dressed in grey and jade green. They weren't hostile, but definitely wary and seemed almost a little surprised as they stared the stranger down. Both, Viktor noticed quickly, carried weapons- but they didn’t immediately try to attack him, which the Agent was somewhat grateful for. A messy first meeting was exactly what he’d hoped to avoid with this particular mission, and despite the silent staring contest happening at that moment it appeared that a fight wasn’t imminent.

The soldier standing on the left was human (or appeared so), about his age and almost his height, with freckles, dark blonde hair cut in a bob and almond-shaped, spring green eyes that seemed to pierce right through him. The tips of a tattoo curled up the left side of her neck, and she fiddled with the handle of the blaster attached to her hip. 

The Chiss accompanying her was quite tall in comparison, with a friendly glint in his red eyes despite the faint sneer that curled his lips. His hair was cut short and well-kept, and a visible scar ran down the left side of his face. There was an earpiece attached to his right ear, Viktor noticed; probably so The Collector could listen in on this little meeting their soldiers were having with the stranger. He held a rifle similar to Viktor’s own with the practised ease of a sniper.

“What do you want?” The human asked, a faint accent lining her voice. Viktor couldn’t place it at first, he hadn’t been in the field for a while ... Balmorran, maybe? _No,_ his mind told him a second later as the familiarity clicked with a memory. _Alderaanian._

“I seek an audience with The Collector.” He bowed his head slightly in a show of politeness. “I’ve been on the holo with your representatives, and was told to meet your people here. I take it you’re the people I’m looking for?”

“Identification please.” The young woman held out a hand, scowling. It was clear she didn't believe him.

With a small grunt, Viktor held out the holopad with the letter from The Collector to confirm his visit. The woman’s eyes scanned over the text for a moment, before she nodded and handed the holopad back to him.

“Seems to be in order.” There was a moment where the woman watched Viktor carefully, as if memorising the details of his appearance or trying to figure out his thoughts. It was unsettling either way. She turned to the Chiss soldier after that moment, expression softening almost imperceptibly. “Alithor, remove his weapons and take our guest to the lobby. I’ll go tell The Collector you’ve arrived.”

With a blink but without another word to either of the men, the green-eyed woman pivoted and stalked off down the corridor. She was light on her feet, making little sound as she disappeared around the corner. Viktor gave up his rifle and grenades with a small noise of concern which the Chiss dismissed with a wave of his hand. The weapons were placed on a table nearby the door.

“Do not worry, your weapons will be safe.” He guided Viktor away and down the hall at an easy pace. When the agent glanced over his shoulder, the weapons were gone and the little hairs on the back of Viktor’s neck stood on end.

“So what’s your name, anyway?” The Chiss - Alithor, Viktor remembered - sent a sidelong glance at him as they walked down the hall. The soldier seemed a little more relaxed now that the woman was gone, and it showed in his body language. Despite the slight slouch, Alithor was a good few inches taller than Viktor, and had to duck slightly to fit under most doorways.

“Xavier,” Viktor lied easily. Xavier was a name that he often used as an alias, though he never gave a surname. “Yours is Alithor?” He asked, glancing up at the taller soldier and expecting a nod in return. Instead, a small laugh bubbled from the taller man. He had a nice laugh, one that came from his gut.

“No, no. My name is Surta'litho'receqe. But, you can call me Alithor, like everyone else does. It’s an informality, not an insult,” he added, almost as if he had intercepted that question in the past. “And before you ask, the name of the woman you met is something I cannot tell you, but you can ask her yourself. If you’re scared, call her Boss until you do learn her name. Been calling her that for years now, she doesn’t mind it.” The sneer had softened into a faint grin. It appeared that the two soldiers were quite close.

“Are you two …?” Viktor felt like he needed to get that question out of the way to establish who in this organisation was connected to whom, but despite his cool tone the question sounded awkward. It always did, there was no real subtle way of asking if two people were an item or not.

“What? No, no,” he laughed again. “A good friend of mine. Not a romantic relationship there, though if she’s caught your eye I urge you to be careful. Boss is _notorious_.”

At that admission, Viktor nodded, glancing around at the slate and green decorations that lined the halls- The Collector had a theme, by the looks of the scenery. It distracted him for a moment from wondering how Alithor could be so open about his colleague’s love life to a stranger.

“The Collector does have good taste,” the agent admitted out loud, hoping to change the subject. He wasn't lying about that, either- the décor was actually quite sophisticated, and felt almost inviting for a highly organised group of criminals. If he was lucky, this might lend some insight into the personality of The Collector, even if Viktor didn't know anything about them.

“Thank you.” A grin crossed over his companion's face when Viktor turned around, startled. There was no way it was this easy.

“You're-?”

“Nope.” Alithor’s red eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed. “Just their interior designer, the colours set off their eyes well.” Alithor shrugged, still grinning as if he knew something that the agent didn't- which was true, not that Viktor was impressed by it. “You sounded surprised. What are you expecting my boss to be like, hm?”

“I’m unsure.” Viktor admitted, shaking his head in response. “There's not a lot of information on the holonet about them,” he joked weakly. “Older than us, probably- in today's galaxy it takes a _lot_ to establish an organisation like this one."

“Sixteen orbits,” Alithor confirmed vaguely with a nod as they turned a corner, turning into a hall with an impressive set of doors at the far end. He clarified after a moment, noticing Viktor’s look, “We've been up and running as a group for sixteen orbits, growing in prosperity ever since.”

_Even longer than I've been with Intelligence,_ Viktor noted, comparing this dedication to his own twelve-year stint as an agent. He had never exactly stood out enough among his peers to be promoted to Cipher, but did a reasonable job in his work. “Wow.” He said aloud. “That is quite impressive. Did your boss have any help?”

“No, their family raised them to be independent, never relying on others even for information on targets. Trust is earned in their books. It took my boss a while to trust even me,” he added with a winning smile. “But that’s what you get from a family like the one they were raised in.”

“What kind of family was it?” Came the next question. Viktor was sorting this information as Alithor spoke about his boss into things he needed to report to Keeper and things that weren’t necessary. At the moment, he'd take all the information he could get.

“Bunch of assassins. Wouldn't expect you to know about them.” On the contrary, that admission rang a bell. He knew of most of the assassin clans in the galaxy; at least half of them wanted him dead.

“Not really my cup of kaff, I’ll admit.” Viktor nodded, smiling tersely. “So where are we going?”

“The audience room.” Alithor gestured to the doors that they were approaching. “My orders were to wait with Boss until we verified that you weren't a threat, then she would go on ahead while I brought you to The Collector.”

“That makes sense. I am a stranger, it’d be a bad business practise if I’d been taken straight in.” Viktor glanced up at Alithor, who cracked a smile at that as they stood before the doors.

“Do I need to warn you to hold your tongue?” Alithor ran a hand through his short hair as he moved over to an access panel and typed something in. Viktor didn’t quite catch the code; even if he had, he imagined it wouldn’t have been that way for long. “Okay. All set. Good luck in there, Xavier.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Enter.”

The voice had been run through a modulator, finely tuned to sound almost natural; but Viktor could tell that the cadence that was spat out had been tweaked. The heavy doors swung open, leaving Viktor and Alithor to see three figures stand up at the other end of the room to face the duo. They did so and took two steps forward in perfect unison, which kind of creeped Viktor out a bit.

Front and centre stood a tall figure dressed in heavy armour, patterned in the familiar jade and grey that adorned everything around the place. A blaster hung at their side, half-covered by a jade green cloak, and a helmet - dark grey with a glowing green slit for eyes - covered their face. There were small glowing lines on their belt too, indicating ready, yet easily concealed weapons. Viktor guessed that they were likely The Collector, or at least a lieutenant of the notorious villain.

The soldiers on each side of the figure in the middle were nondescript by comparison; their faces were covered by a deep cowl, the bottom half of their face covered with a dark grey mask with glowing markings that were the same shade of green. Their only visible difference was that one wore dark armour similar to the important-looking soldier; the other was dressed in inky black robes. _Force user,_ Viktor’s finely tuned logic informed him. _Or religious._ Either way, probably a threat.

“May I present The Collector,” Alithor rumbled from beside Viktor, nodding towards the imposing figure when Viktor glanced up at him to be sure. “Lord of the Paths Unknown, Tactical Prowess Unrivalled.” The tall person in the helmet nodded towards Viktor and Alithor without a word, and Alithor nudged him forward. “Present yourself,” he hissed.

“My name is Xavier. I am an Alderaanian mercenary seeking to offer my services to you in your work, as a way for me to settle a grudge against the Empire.” He said with a small bow. It was a practised lie, and yet he was slightly disappointed to see that it received no reaction from The Collector.

“Do you have a legacy name, Xavier?” The Collector asked, confirming that the unknown voice was theirs and it had definitely been tampered with, most likely within the helmet. The possibility of this leader being a droid occurred and was dismissed in a blink of an eye- a cyborg perhaps, but their motions were too fluid to be programmed. A legacy name, which was a fancy way of referring to a surname, wasn't common, but it was not unheard of; mostly a way to show status among the regular citizens; especially in the Empire.

“No, Collector.” Another lie as part of his work. It was easier to pass himself off as an offworlder if he didn’t reveal any legacy.

“Interesting … Evangeline showed me files that told me it was Lucard. Who tells the truth?” At the name ‘Evangeline’ being spoken, Alithor coughed quietly, and was silenced by a sharp look from The Collector.

“Your files are wrong, or you have the wrong person. I am not of a legacy.” Viktor squashed the seeds of doubt in his stomach as he denied the claim in as forceful a tone as he could muster. Lucard was too close to his real name for comfort, and he hadn't been told he would be given a legacy for this mission.

The Collector hummed in response, and nodded to Alithor and their guards. Viktor heard the distinct thud of a door closing where he'd entered, and the guards’ footsteps receded to the edges of the room.

“My apologies,” they said calmly, and suddenly there was the nozzle of a blaster pressed between his eyes. He blinked, but didn't flinch; he hadn't even seen them move. There had to be an augment on them somewhere. “But-” there was a pause, then the sound of a different door opening, and snarling from the other side. “I'm afraid I don't believe you.”

“Then don't believe me. I'll earn your trust.” Viktor responded with an air of nonchalance, recalling Alithor’s earlier words.

“You have some spirit,” The Collector responded, turning their head slightly. Was that amusement in the modulated voice or was that just his imagination? There was the loud scrape of a door closing, and the snarling subsided. “How do you intend to do this?”

“Send me on a mission or something. Let me prove myself to you.” There was a long moment of silence, and Viktor mentally prepared himself for death. Call him dramatic, but assuming worst case scenario when there was a blaster held to his head as a part of no joke was part of the job. That moment seemed to stretch forever as Viktor tried to quell his fear.

“... Very well.” The blaster lowered, and Viktor’s heart felt like it started beating normally again. They looked up at Alithor, who was watching with interest. “Take him to a room, get him set up. Tell Evangeline to take him out on that Nikto errand.” Viktor internally groaned; he hated the Nikto sector. But there was an almost childish curiosity that made him wonder who Evangeline was, and if he would be dealing with her often after this.

“Yes sir.” Alithor's voice broke Viktor from his thoughts. He took a couple of steps back the way they'd entered the room, and beckoned for Viktor to move towards him. Glancing back at The Collector, who nodded and resheathed their blaster before turning on their heel and stalking back towards the desk at the end of the hall, Viktor took it as a dismissal and followed Alithor out of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

The journey to Viktor’s new quarters was fairly short, and to his delight his missing weapons were present on the desk next to the bed. He quickly inspected them for any breaks or scratches, and was relieved to find his trackers and little gadgets still in place; the familiar ridges on his belongings that hid Intelligence secrets. Lovely; since the trackers were intact, Intelligence would know where he was, and he had his little pieces to improvise with when needed.

The room itself was fairly small, but it was his own room; there were no other bunks in plain view. No holocom, but that was okay; he had a portable one that he could secure a direct line to Keeper with when needed. The walls were plain steel.

“You may decorate as you see fit.” Alithor said from the doorway, leaning against the frame. “We give recruits a fair bit of freedom, but I’ll warn you now that there are room checks once a week to make sure that there’s nothing inappropriate.” He snorted, and Viktor wondered if there was a story behind Alithor’s words. “Also, I’ll need some of your details to get armour sorted for you if you plan to stay.”

“I plan to.” 

“Good to hear.”

There was a pause, one which Xavier used to further inspect his weapons, discreetly setting up trackers and fiddling with settings on his rifle.

“Xavier, do you have family on Dromund Kaas?” Alithor said. Viktor looked up, noting that he had made himself comfortable on the chair while the agent worked on his weapons. The fact that such a tall man had moved so silently came as a surprise, but despite the small shock of it in his gut Viktor simply shook his head. That was questioned a lot on his missions, mostly because any accent he tried to hold slipped away quite quickly; it was his one flaw as an agent (or so he liked to think). So, instead of exposing himself, he rolled with it.

“Not now, but I used to. My parents moved to Alderaan before I was born, but they were both from Kaas. Is it my accent?” 

“Yes.” _I knew it._ “We don’t get many people out this way with your accent unless they’re Empire officials or … well, officials trying to take time off.” There was a small, bitter edge to Alithor’s voice as he spoke. He must have had some bad experience with Imperials in the past. Viktor decided he would respect the other soldier’s privacy and not ask. Instead, he stood up, dusted off his pants, and shouldered his rifle. Alithor smiled grimly. “Ready to go?”

“Ready as I'll ever be. I hate the Nikto sector.” Alithor laughed at that, one of his genuine laughs that lit up his face.

“Nobody likes it, my friend. Evangeline knows it, but she complains more than you.”

“So who is Evangeline?” Viktor asked as he and Alithor left the room.

“An old friend of mine. You'll see.”

The walk from Viktor’s room to the port wasn’t very far, and when the two men arrived Viktor saw the same woman from earlier leaning against a speeder. She seemed focused on the datapad she was tapping away on, brow furrowed in a thoughtful scowl.

“Eva. You’ve got company on that errand.” Alithor spoke, and Evangeline looked up.

In the fluorescent lights, her green eyes seemed to glow slightly as she did a double take, and for the first time Viktor became aware of two scars. One across her cheeks and nose, and one that ran from her forehead to her jaw over her right eye. 

“So you’re alive. That’s surprising.” Her tone was dry, almost sarcastic. She looked over to Alithor. “Are you my company?” She sounded almost hopeful, and Viktor couldn't quite hold back an indignant noise.

“You’re not that lucky.” Alithor rumbled, lips quirking in a grin. He ran a hand through his hair. “You’ve got the fresh blood today. I also found out that he’s Alderaanian.”

Evangeline gave him a once-over with those vibrant eyes, made a small noise of dissent, and put the datapad into her jacket.

“Fine.” She said gruffly. “But I’m driving the speeder.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I promise I am still working on this. [laughs] 
> 
> Feel free to come pester me, I am on tumblr under mercibun!


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